Best Gambit Poems
If we sacrifice, that what we possess,
allusion being to ego we know,
this gambit pays off, for as we undress
and conditioned beliefs slowly let go,
released from erst fears, we begin to flow.
Thought fetters that bound and twirled us around,
viewed with nonchalance, no longer astound,
since having vaporised and merged with space,
we are from head to toe, in bliss mists drowned,
imbibing breath by breath, God’s sublime grace.
in this two player game the stakes are high
players can do so much worse than to die
marriage is no more than an impulse pact
love is more a phase than a lifelong fact
do watch your partner closely note her tell
miss it and you will find a cheating hell
the loss of love trust wins you a stalemate
it’s always best to start with a clean slate
it’s never about the placing of blame
both game players must have the same endgame
take a life decision, gambit or stay?
make the best decision “En prise” the day
slight caution may lead you to hesitate,
the end result: a love loss by checkmate
-updated July 2016-
Go through chores as, like a machine
the sunrise, sundown, the rains, and snow
the countryside pass by a train window
but can't drink the green valley to the lees
along the mountain slope the mist rises
swept clean by a light stream from among clouds
sea waves thrash the shore and back they go
the glacial river water flows down to the plains
poke the ecology to melt ice at the source
fertile lands begin to wear desert signages
channel energy to mine minerals and wring out oil
combust petroleum to run trucks and automobiles
disease and pandemic checkmate growth
damage life, in the gambit to make it hunky-dory.
It is often heard as a whisper in the wind,
When leaping forward to take a chance.
Where the heart is put forth to reason,
While stumbling to join the next dance.
Well known for this emotional gamble,
With stakes one can rarely forget.
As risk may outweigh what's available,
And the loss won't weaken the regret.
Yet this nature can also recall the rewards,
That this sacrifice may yield, if bet.
With a bond to withstand any tarnish,
When the compliments endure for the duet.
Since this leap is riddled by imperfection,
Very few will win all without defeat.
The question remains then, whether to
Participate, and take a step forward to compete.
Starting with the book move,
Hii, it's pawn to e-four.
Don't act like strangers,
You've seen this move before.
Now my knights came into play,
It's surely an awkward move.
You won't understand my intentions,
And it might hurt you out of blue.
Now I'm cluttered in this position,
And there's no trick under my hat.
But I'm a true and loyal player,
You better believe in that.
It's hard for me to open up,
And castling feels secure.
I've placed my gambit.
Now the next move is yours.
Your bishop slashed me at diagonal,
And i have no good counter,
You say she's not aiming my rook,
But its obvious for me to doubt her.
Between this hustle,
My queen is under threat.
I should have been more careful,
And tried to avoid this bet.
But now I finally realize,
No matter what trick you choose,
You're just a noob to your opps
It's the game you always lose.
On board
in corners of my mind
forfeit never, it’s
c a
s
t l
e
i n
g
sacrifices for queen's gambit
We live through chill weeks
Of dreary darkness,
Alarmed a livid springtime flash
Rends open deep night,
Palpitating startled hearts—
Feet spring from bed, toes grasp:
Slippers, slippers;
Bemused eyes at last lunge,
Leap through wet glass,
Past fogged panes quaking,
Reflexive to turmoil,
A stark panorama
Of tatted rain
Hurled by vehement wind,
Lank, hunch-necked streetlamp
Quivering in its duty
To sow gold treasure
Across drenched pavement
And green-budded boughs,
Nascent foliage thrashing,
Limbs flailing wild protest
Against dark, vengeful clouds
Instantly roiling bright,
Hot-blue ire sparking world
Through klieg light to night …
Bed, bed: snug haven
From spring’s irate gambit,
Warmth of vernal hope
Mounting the barricade
In rebellion to gloom.
February 23, 2018
Describe a Thunderstorm Without the Sense of Sound Poetry Contest
Brenda Chiri, Sponsor
Bat-blind to looming gripe and cold decay,
Clueless shoots jump onto life's gay stage,
Oblivious of Grim Fate's scything designs
That waste with disease and stealing age.
They wouldn't turn around and at once behold
Slowly waning sires with mean griefs to scold.
Youth's full plate such wanton cheers parades,
That no eye can see sly time's thievish shades.
Thus enchanted our pleasure-lured victims file
Onto glum podiums whereon their sires stood;
Dancing to selfsame tunes of deaded antiquity,
Decoyed by vanity's unedited rhythmical mood.
While earth's tetchy wheel of raw fun yet turns,
One in the numbed lot in death's embers burns.
To decry such brazenness by that spiteful foe,
Smitten hordes seethe and writhe in brief woe.
In the end every joy-craving dancer sadly goes,
And green offspring pop in to follow their toes.
the tables have turned
victor spins the cylinder
triggering the end
The pride and integrity of broken covenants, plans devoid of breath
Failure to act in unforeseen events, situations uncontrolled
Chasing to correct errors, straying to accept loss
Stupidity? Naivete? Ignorance?
The agitated mind is dumb as the first bet lost
In desperation for redemption, the same motions are forced
To pretend and to pose, to chase the wind
To seek approval, for truth in trust lost
An orphaned child in a home locked away,
A misfit yearning for a place to stay.
A single bulb in the basement glowed—
Where she played chess with the janitor, silent and slow.
She might have been taught the specifics of the game,
Little did anyone know she was queen of the same-
Losing herself in the black and white squares of the game,
With herself as the bested opponent .
A prodigy she was, but so much more,
A predator lurking behind closed doors-
Seldom she found herself mixing chemicals with her brain-
Hoping for a respite, hoping for hope.
She strived to be identified as more than her gender,
She wanted her circumstances to be recognised to not be tender.
Feeling like she never could rely on anyone;
Found some mates in the most unexpected mirrors.
She saw through people's heads, saw through the stakes,
Indulged their games and drew them in with fakes -
She bested herself when she became world champion,
A russian semblance only to belong to chess corners.
She became a force to be reckoned with-
A Queen in her name, a queen among men,
From Moscow’s cold to global acclaim,
She became the queen—not just of the game.
A force in focus, fierce and deft,
Not just a woman—she is Beth.
Can I say, I love you ?
Will you permit?
Or you can do just one act of love
to caution; you might be a gambit.
(17.03.2025)
The queen has strength and power
To make the king surrender.
I'm skating on the lake waiting for it to break and yet the tragedy will not be me people will see when you paint your face over everything that once was me.
K-eep
Y-our
L-ast
A-ce
S-afe
U-nder
Y-our
A-ssured
T-actics
©bfa062525
Monocrostic (Birthday of Kyla Suyat)